Fairheart
by Ginger89
Summary: William Wallace grew from boy to man in the time it took to swing a sword. I too grew during that brief moment in time. I grew from girl to woman, from warrior to lover, from oppressed to free....
1. Chapter 1

I love Braveheart, and being of Scottish descent, the story has always intrigued me. This is my effort to retell the story portrayed in the film, and add my own little twist to things

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected to it, however Alaine Campbell is my own creation.

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Part I

The wool wrapped around Alaine's eyes itched. She carefully shifted her weight, freeing one of her hands. She slowly raised her hand and slipped a finger under the blindfold. The rough fibers caught at her skin, but finally the cloth was shifted so that it no longer bothered her. Just as carefully, Alaine slipped her hand down and back behind her.

She was suppose to be the Scottish princess captured by English knights. Alaine hated being the princess. Being the princess meant she was blindfolded and had to lie in the hay in the lean-to behind her father's croft. It was unfair that Hamish and William got to run around pretending to be the English knight and the Scottish warrior, battling for her. Alaine wanted to be the warrior and let one of the boys be blindfolded and left in boredom.

"Arrrggh!" With a cry the door to the lean-to burst open. Alaine twitched, wishing desperately to see who her rescuer would be. She could feel one of the boys drop into the hay beside her.

"Don't worry Princess. Tis me, William. I've coom to save yee." William's small hands reached behind Alaine and pretended to untie binding ropes. Alaine struggled to sit up, hay drifting in the air around them. She tugged at the blindfold, finally free of the confounding thing.

William beamed at the messy princess, his blue eyes gleaming with the excitement of an adventure. "See Alaine, I've saved yee. I killed Hamish, an here I am."

Alaine sighed frustratedly. "Thank yee William. Can I be the warrior next? Let Hammish be the princess. I doon't wanna be the princess any more." Alaine's tone strayed into whining with her last words but the affect was lost on William.

"You, be a warrior? That kin never happen. You're a girl. Girl's doon't fight." His face screwed up, trying to comprehend the thought of a female warrior.

"Fine then. You an Hamish can play alone. I'm goin' inside." Alaine huffed and struggled to her feet. Without one last look, she stomped out of the hay pen, brushing dirt and dust from her skirts.

"Oy, where might you be going?" Hamish had been outside, lying on the ground, his 'sword' lying to one side.

"Here, you be the princess." And with that, Alaine threw the blindfold at her brother and stormed into the croft.

Alaine spent the rest of the day sulking inside. She ignored any of her mother's inquiries as to what was bothering. Her mother just shook her head. "Tis your bright hair. You carry your father's hair and his temper, you and your brother both."

The day had been a rare one when Da had traveled to another croft conducting business of some sort, leaving Hamish and Alaine at the farm, with nothing to do after his chores were finished. William's father and brother had gone with the elder Campbell, and so had left young William at the Campbell croft for the day. It was some time after dinner when the three men returned. Malcolm Wallace exchanged quiet words with Alaine's Ma before carrying the sleeping William with him home.

Hamish had fallen asleep some time before, but Alaine had stayed up, waiting for her father to come home. This business of not being able to fight bothered her. If Hamish and William were allowed, then so should she be.

"Da?" Alaine crept from under her blankets and came to stand by her father's side. Her mother glanced at her, a scold rising to her lips, but after seeing the child's face, she kept the words inside and turned back to fixing her husband's meal.

"Come her Little Bit." Da reached down and lifted Alaine to his knee. At seven years she was still just able to fit on his lap. "Come and tell me what's bothering you."

"Ham and Will always make me be the princess. I hate being the princess. I wanna be the warrior instead. But Will said girls canna fight." Tears came to Alaine's eyes. She desperately wanted to be included in what Hamish and William were allowed to be.

Da through back his head and laughed. Alaine loved it when her father laughed for it sounded deep and rich, and it made his eyes sparkle with some hidden joke.

"So my Little Bit wants to fight then." Da seemed rather taken with the though.

"Ham. Don't encourage her. Malcolm's boy is right. Girl's don't fight." Alaine's mother turned and set a bowl of stew down in front of her husband. "We wield needles instead of swords. We fight with words and looks, not with weapons. Hamish Campbell, I swear if you start teaching her how to fight, I will leave you before the next morn."

"Gerda, now don't start with me. You know as well as I do that Aliane is ill suited to needles and the like. Why she's burnt everything when she's set her hand to cooking. And she's going to need to know how to fight with her mouth. You've heard the things that have coom out of there before. Besides love, that business of mine today. Well things aren't looking good. The Lords are meeting with the English tomorrow, and I have my doubts about the whole thing. We're going to have to fight, and it's going to take all of us to do so."

Da sat back slightly winded. That was possibly the longest speech he had ever made, but the shining look in his daughter's eyes made it all the worth while.

Gerda hung her head. She knew when she had been beaten.

"Fine then. Teach her to fight and then see what becomes of her when we canna find her someone to marry."

It was settled then. Alaine would be trained in the art of war next to her brother. But upon the next day the Scottish Lords were betrayed and were killed. The Highland crofts rose up including the Wallaces and the Campbells. William was left to tend his father's croft and to keep an eye out for their return. His father and his brother returned, but instead of coming back on horses they rode off on, they came lying in the back of a wagon, slain by the English.

The English tightened their rule over Scotland, preventing any further uprisings. The patriots kept their movements secret and their cause was kept silent. Willaim was led off by his uncle to parts unknown. Alaine and Hamish were trained by their father, just as he promised.

Time passed and freedom became a passing thought. It grew dormant in the people's hearts. It began a long game of waiting; waiting for the one to wake it once more and lead the people to victory……


	2. Chapter 2

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

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Part II

"Is that tight enough for you?" Alaine leaned over her friend's shoulder, tugging at the ends of the newly plaited hair in her hand.

Murron wiggled her head slightly. "No, they're perfect. Thank you Alaine." She reached up and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. For all her faults, Alaine was a stead fast friend who's deft fingers were good not only for shooting arrows but for braiding hair as well.

Alaine secured the ends of the braids and smoothed her hands down Murron's hair. She envied her friend for her long shining hair. Murron had smooth hair of the richest brown color.

Alaine let out a sigh without any notice. Murron, however, did notice. "Why the sigh sister?"

Alaine turned from her friend and peered down at her visage, waved and broken in the polished disk that they used as a mirror.

"Tis nothing."

Murron knew better. Alaine was very good at hiding her feelings from others, but the two girls had grown up together on their family crofts, and despite differencing personalities and duties, the two were as close as sisters.

"Don't make me drag the words from you Alaine, tell me what is pressing upon you."

Alaine turned to face her friend. She knew it was useless to pretend nothing was bothering her. It wasn't the fact that something was bothering her, it was what was bothering her that caused so much distress. Alaine hated anything that made her seem weak, foolish, or overly womanly.

"It's just, that…. I feel foolish for feeling this way, but you are much prettier than me Murron. I hate this. I hate dressing up, but yet a part of me loves it."

Murron let out a breath, a smile hinting across her lips. She came to stand by Alaine, peering over her shoulder, watching the two of them in the bronze mirror.

"Alaine, finally, you're acting like a woman. It is in our nature to want to look and feel pretty. And besides, I am not so much prettier than thou, tis just our looks differ. I have brown hair and pale skin, but you have the prettiest copper hair I have ever seen."

Murron paused for a moment, studying Alaine. Murron, herself, was wearing a dress of the lightest blue over a white kirtle while Alaine had borrowed her green dress, having nothing of her own to wear.

"Here, Alaine, leave your hair down for the wedding. You look so much more prettier if you do."

Murron reached up and with a deft twist of her hands brought down the mess of braids that kept Alaine's hair out of her eyes. She undid the plaiting and smoothed her hair out, combing the snarls with her fingers.

"When was the last time you combed your hair out?" Murron inquired.

Alaine laughed, low and soothing. "I have no time for fripperies between Da's secret meetings and training with Hamish. Now come on, stop fussing over me or we'll be late."

Many years had passed since that day when a young Alaine had clambered up to her father's lap and begged to be trained as a warrior. In the ensuing years Alaine had gotten her wish. The underground movement against Longshanks and the English needed everyone who was able to help. Planning and meetings took up much of her father's time and it was rare that her brother, Hamish, and herself were far from his side. The family croft was left in the very capable hands of Alaine and Hamish's mother, Gerda.

Finally, if only for a day, the clandestine was put on hold. Liam Morrison was to be married to Ceana McGlover. Murron and Alaine had grown up with the two and were very excited for their two friends.

Murron's father escorted the two young women to the wedding. They rode in the back of his wagon with Murron's mother. Gifts of linen and flowers were pilled in the back as well.

For the past two Sundays, the banns had been announced in the village commons. Today the final announcement would be made, along with the wedding procession and finally the actually wedding itself. Afterwards a large celebration including feasting, games, and dancing would be held all night and well into the next day.

Murron and Alaine spent the time traveling, gossiping and giggling. Alaine had little chance to do either with the company that she normally kept. She loved that Murron understood her and her conflicting natures.

When the MacClannoughs and Alaine arrived at the village, people were streaming to the middle of the village, to the commons. Ribbons and garlands of early flowers decorated every house and were hung in the trees. As Alaine, Murron, and Mother MacClannough made their way through the outskirts of the village, they could see the tables and benchs set up for the wedding feast.

The ancient priest was mounting the large rock that sat in the middle of the commons. As he teetered, trying to gain his balance, the crowd grew silent, all eyes on him. He cleared his throat and began:

"It is intended that Liam Morrison take as his wife, Ceana McGlover. I publish the banns of marriage between Liam and C.D. Ceana. If any of you know any cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the third time of asking….."

He paused for a moment and then motioned for Liam and Ceana to come out in front of the crowd. The two lovers made their way somewhat sheepishly.

Liam looked handsome in his best tunic and kilt. Ceana had a garland of fresh flowers in her hair and a matching one in her hands. As she and Liam took their places in front for everyone to see, Ceana reached out and placed the second wreath upon Liam's head. A great cheer rose from those present.

The wedding couple grasped hands and turned to follow the priest. The rest of the crowd followed. The parents of the two lovebirds came behind them, followed by close friends and family members, Murron and Alaine included.

The services, one in Scottish, the second in Latin, seemed to fly by. It appeared that in no time Liam and Ceana had exchanged wooden wedding bands and had shared in their first kiss as husband and wife.

The two lead the cheering crowds to the open field where the feasting and dancing was to be held.

Some time later during the midst of the feasting, a whisper arose from the wedding guests. Alaine at first paid it no mind, but her ears pricked up when she heard in hushed tones "Willaim Wallace has returned!"

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Author's Note: I have no idea about Ceana and Liam's real names; they are simply Morrison and Mrs. Morrison in the credits for the film. They are two of my favorite characters and I think their brief moment during the film to be one of the greatest love stories. Please read and review, but no flames.


	3. Chapter 3

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Thanks to Jess for being my first reviewer : )

I've taken a little bit of artistic license in an effort to better incorporate Alaine into the story and to try and keep the chapters at a manageable length.

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Part III

Alaine's head jerked sharply. Little William Wallace back again. Well, she supposed, he would be little not longer. He'd probably gone and grown up like they all did. She turned and surveyed the crowd, searching for her old friend.

"Oy, what's this now? Yee better watch where you're treading, you've stepped on my finest pair of boots."

Alaine sighed. She recognized that rough growl anywhere. It belonged to her elder brother Hamish. He was just as, if not more, hotheaded than herself. He had their father's gleaming red hair and burly attitude.

Alaine shoved herself away from the table she had been sitting at. She knew not where her parents were, but the least she could do was protect whomever her brother was quarreling with from Hamish's temper.

She shoulder her way through then throng that had gathered to watch Hamish and the tall stranger. Cor was the stranger handsome, and Alaine only had a view of his backside! She looked him up and down. Firm calves, a strong back, a mane of tangle brown hair that flowed down, and an arse to praise God for. Alaine could not help but to smile.

Alaine struggled free from the crowd and made to go to her brother but a strong hand on her arm stopped her. She whipped around to come face to face with her father, the elder Hamish.

"Hush now daughter. Let Hamish and Will have it out."

Alaine's mouth opened in surprise. The stranger was William Wallace. Well he certainly had grown up.

The stranger turned around, surveying for a likely looking rock. Truly he was William! Alaine could see that now. He little resembled the boy he once was, but his bright blue eyes were the same, and the hint of mischievous peaked around his lips.

William went first. He took a short running start and let loose his stone. The thing arched slightly before falling quickly to the ground. Alaine let out a snort of derision. Not only could she throw better, but her brother could crush him with one throw.

Hamish went next. His stone flew over the heads of the crowd and landed much farther than Wallace's did.

"That was a good throw." William admitted his defeat. "I was wondering if you could do that when it matters. Could you crush a man with that throw?"

The crowd became still once more. Here was William Wallace taunting Hamish Campbell. Nothing good ever came from taunting a Campbell.

Hamish's face turned a bright red, never a good sign, for it meant his blood was up.

"Aye I could crush you like a worm." He bent down for a large, heavy rock.

Wallace just beamed his devilish smile. "Well do it then." He strutted a few paces out in front of Hamish and waved to the crowd.

Alaine silently groaned. Even if her brother didn't smash Wallace with his stone, he certainly would with his fists.

"You'll move," Hamish boasted.

"I will not."

Da bent down to whisper in Alaine's ear. "A coin says that he'll move."

Alaine leaned back to address her father. "I'll take that bet old man."

Hamish grunted and took a few steps back. Alaine could see his arms strain with the weight of the stone. With a cry he began running forward, lifting the rock up. Suddenly the stone was free and hurtling through the air.

Alaine watch breathless as she watched the stone spin through the air. It was quite a feat that Hamish managed to launch it so high. Her breath whooshed out as the stone sailed right over William and landed quite a bit behind him. Loud whoops and cheers erupted from the crowd for Wallace had never flinched.

Da let loose his deep hearty laugh and clapped his daughter on the shoulder. "Well done, well done Wallace." He slipped his fingers into his belt pouch and withdrew a coin. "Well done as well Little Bit." He handed the coin to Alaine.

Wallace was not done yet. He snatched up a small stone, gauged the distance and let loose. The crowd as one followed the path of the stone and winced as one as the stone struck Hamish across the forehead.

"Hamish!" Alaine leaned forward to determine if her brother would survive or not.

Da let loose another laugh. "Fine display, young Wallace." He made forward, pushing Alaine ahead of him. The elder Hamish and William clapped hands and pulled each other into an embrace.

Alaine bent over her brother. As strong and as hardheaded as he was, he was often more clunk headed than anything. "Are you alright? You look a wee bit shaky?"

Hamish stared up at his sister, not quite focusing on her. "I shoulda remembered the rocks."

Before Alaine could puzzle out what he meant by, William lightly pushed by her. "Aye you should have. Get up, ya big heap. It's good to see you again." He pulled Hamish up and into a huge hug.

Hamish looked sheepish as he wobbled in his friend's arms. "Aye welcome home. Now let me down."

William laughed and let Hamish loose from his arms. He turned and studied Alaine.

"Now I would say that you be Alaine Campbell. But you cannae be, for I remember her as a teeny girl with braids, and you are a far sight pretty than she was."

Alaine blushed and laughed at her old friend's flattery. "Aw you great big lump, tis me alright."

William laughed again and swept her up into his arms. "Well then. Little Alaine has become all grown up."

"Let me down you oaf. I see that you've gotten taller, but you nae grown up any."

Willaim chuckled and set Alaine down. "Now tell, me is that the fair Murron I see over yonder?"

Alaine glanced over her shoulder. Murron was standing with a soft smile on her face, her eyes seeing only William. She looked up at William. The same smile was on his face and already Alaine was far from his mind.

"Aye, go ask her for a dance, I'm sure she'll grant you one."

Alaine's smile slipped a little. Already Murron had captured William's interest and Alaine hadn't even been given the chance to try. She sighed as William left her with a pat on her shoulder. Murron had been dreaming of William ever since they all were small children. It was only right that this should happen.

"Come on you." Alaine reached down and helped her brother up once more. "Lets go get you cleaned up."

Hamish tossed one arm around his sister's shoulders. "Would you believe that? William back again. I'd thought he was never returning. It will be good to see smoke from the Wallace croft once more."

Alaine began coaxing her brother to one of the tables. Blood was running down his face. It was a shallow cut, but it was bleeding more than one would think wise.

"Soldiers!"

A sudden cry broke through the merriment. Alaine's head whipped up, her body automatically tensing. From the path through the village came the sound of hoof beats. At once a large group of orange clad men rounded the corner. The English had come!

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Sorry for breaking things off here, but I didn't want to make this chapter longer than it already is. I'll have Part IV up tonight. Enjoy : )


	4. Chapter 4

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

I've written this chapter a bit differently from my previous ones. Let me know what you think.

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Part IV

It was Alaine's job to help Ceana the morning after. Lord Bottoms' soldiers delivered her to her father's doorstep just as the sun was peaking over the mountains. Alaine and her parents had spent the night with the McGlovers. Alaine did not sleep during that night. She sat just outside the doorway. Her dress was gone, returned to Murron, and her boiled leather armor was in its place.

Liam had to be taken away by William, Hamish, and several of the other village lads. Alaine knew not where he had spent the night, but she was certain that it was not in the home he had labored so hard to finish before the wedding.

The wedding feast had ended abruptly as the soldiers rode back through the village, Ceana on the back of a horse following Lord Bottoms. She never turned around as they rode away. She had already said her goodbyes to her husband.

The crowd was frozen in place, watching the English ride away. The spell was broken as Liam fell to his knees, a horrible, gut wrenching scream ripping itself from his lips.

Alaine could only watch his misery. It was far beyond her to comprehend what he was feeling. She had never loved anyone as he loved Ceana. She had never lost a loved one, even for one night, as Liam now had.

Anger, fear, and sorrow crackled in the air above the heads of the crowd as the villagers disappeared into their homes. Those who had traveled from their crofts for the wedding began gathering their things and their children and then departing.

Ceana's mother fell to her knees next to Liam and gathered him in her arms. Alaine watched them. She had never seen such a display of emotion from any man. It was only then that she noticed her's were the only dry eyes among the group left behind.

"Come on now then. We have things to do. William, Hamish, take care of Liam. Ma, come, help me pick things up. Murron we could use your help as well."

Everyone looked up at Alaine's words. It was if they were suddenly reminded that a world beyond them existed.

Liam's father helped his son to his feet and with one last embrace let William and Hamish led him off. It did not matter where they took him as long as they got some whiskey in him to help ease the pain of the coming night.

The elder Hamish began collecting the horses while Murron, Gerda, and Alaine covered the food left out on the tables. The McGlovers could not stir themselves for a few long moments, staring off into the distance after their daughter. Finally McGlover stirred himself to help placing benches against the walls of the church. Mrs. McGlover whipped the tears from her eyes, took stock of herself and began gathering ribbons and flowers from the tables.

The MacClannoughs had been helping some of the croft families depart and they soon returned to the village commons. With embraces and clasping of arms, they collected Murron and departed for their own croft. Soon after, the Morrisons' left as well.

Finally only Alaine, her parents and the McGlovers remained. They left with the McGlovers leading the way to their croft.

Alaine turned to survey the commons one last time; to take in the muddy ground covered in trampled ribbons and remains from the wedding feast, the trees still wearing their garlands of summer flowers, and of Ceana's bouquet crumpling into the remains of a fire.

No one said anything on the trip to the McGlover croft. Nothing was said as Da and McGlover took care of the animals for the night and secured the wagons. Ma and Mrs. McGlover sat at the table nursing mugs of tea and holding each other up.

Alaine had given the dress of forest green back to Murron before she had left, and now changed from her kirtle into a woolen tunic and her leather and metal shirt of armor. Her sturdy boots were wound around her feet and the hair that had shined so brightly in the sunlight was braided back tightly.

Alaine took up her post outside of the doorway, knife at the ready, her bow and arrows on the ground near by. McGlover said nothing as he reentered his home. Hamish the elder stopped and surveyed his daughter.

He was so proud of her. She had grown from a flighty young girl into a strong and capable woman. It was not like him to voice his pride for his children. So he offered her a slight smile, a few words; "Wake me if need be," and a pat on her shoulder.

Alaine never woke him during the night. Her eyes never closed during those dark hours. She barely moved save to shift her feet to keep them from falling asleep. She was ready when the English brought Ceana home.

Ceana said nothing as she slid down from the back of the horse and into Alaine's arms. She said nothing as Alaine turned to lead her into the croft.

"Soon it will be your turn by the looks of it."

The English soldier leered down at Alaine. "Better watch yourself missy," he laughed and spurred his horse away.

Alaine watched him ride away, hatred burning in her heart. At last she understood her father's loathing for the English.

Ceana's return awoke the parents sleeping inside. Gerda and Mrs. McGlover rushed to help her, but Ceana waved them away, tightening her hold on Alaine.

The women immediately understood and ushered the men from the croft, shutting the door behind them.

Alaine carefully set Ceana down in her father's chair and turned to ready a bath in the McGlovers' copper tub.

"Where is Liam?"

Ceana's voice was soft and steady. She turned her head towards Alaine but her eyes were unfocused and unseeing.

"William and Hamish are taking care of him. We'll send for him."

Ceana sucked in a harsh breath. "No, no. Not yet."

Alaine set the pot of water over the fire to heat and came to kneel by her friend.

"Ceana, you have nothing to be ashamed of. It is the English and their prima noctis," Alaine spit the words out as if they were the dirtiest insult to be had, "that should be ashamed."

Ceana nodded absentmindedly and began untying her wedding dress, preparing for her bath.

It was some time before Ceana would let Liam see her. He came every day bearing flowers, trying to show her his untarnished love for her.

Life slowly returned to a semblance of order. Hamish the elder was called away even more often now on 'business,' requiring Hamish and Alaine to stay and manage the croft. William built his house once more and began plowing his fields. Ceana remained at her parents' croft but began seeing and even speaking to Liam once more.

Such happenings continued for sometime until whisperings of another wedding came to Alaine's ears. This wedding would change things much more than that of McGlover to Morrison.

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A little cryptic and melodramatic there at the ending, but, at least in my opinion, it works. Much love if you review : )


	5. Chapter 5

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

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Part V

"William asked me to marry him."

Murron's voice was quiet as she bent over the table, kneading a loaf of bread.

Alaine had been sitting on a bench near the table, reworking a leather satchel for her arrouws. Her head snapped up at Murron's news.

"What?"

Murron paused her kneading, swiping at an errant hair with the back of a floured hand.

"William and I are to be married. He proposed to me last night."

Alaine said nothing, her thoughts withdrawing to a place deep in her mind. She had seen William Wallace quite frequently over the past few months. Hamish and her had helped him rebuilt his farm. He had said nothing of seeing Murron, much less marrying her.

"How….How did this happen?"

Murron's face glowed as she spilled her most precious memories to her dearest friend.

"He came for me one night and took me riding. I've been sneaking out almost every night to see him. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but we promised to keep it a secret. You mustn't tell anyone. Promise me Alaine!"

Murron reached across the table and grasped Alaine's hand in her's.

"I just wanted you to know. We want to keep the marriage secret. After what happened with Liam and Ceana…… William and I don't want to go through that."

Alaine set down her leather awl and grasped her friend's hand.

"Donnae worry Murron, I'll keep your secret."

Alaine stood up and kissed her friend's forehead, smoothing back her hair with one hand.

"Promise me you'll be careful. William's a good man, my blessings upon you both."

Alaine held her stance for a few moments before whisking away out the door. The cool fall air hit her, brushing over her skin and tangling in her braids. How could she not have known about this? Murron and William were her two closest friends. How could William do this to her?

A white hot feeling swept down Alaine's cheek, the confusion of what it could be interrupted her thoughts. She brushed a finger over her cheek and came away with a tear on her finger. Alaine could not remember the last time she had cried.

Alaine supposed she was foolish for feeling this way, but over the summer months, helping William with his croft, she had grown close to him. The two of them and Hamish had started their friendship right where they had left oft at all those years ago.

On the surface, they were just three close friends reveling in being together once more. Everything was normal, except for Alaine's feelings for William. She wasn't sure when they had started to develop. Perhaps that afternoon at the wedding, or maybe it had happened later. Regardless of when it had happened, Alaine certainly felt more for William than she had for any other man before.

She set her back against the wall of the MacClannough croft, trying to gather her thoughts. A romance between Murron and William was only natural. Alaine could remember the two of them as children, before William was taken away by his uncle. The two of them had had something special between them, even at that early age. It was only right that they continue now as adults.

What was not fair was the two of them keeping it from her. Alaine could hardly believe that her two closet friends could sneak behind her back so successfully.

A squishy wet hiccup escaped Alaine as fresh tears spilt down her cheeks. She had to pull herself together. Crying was most unbecoming and shameful of her.

Alaine furiously swiped at the tears, bending her head to hide them. She breathed in deeply and released it slowly, a soft whistling coming from her lips. When she raised her head again the only sign of her tears was a slight puffiness around the corners of her eyes.

And so two nights hence William and Murron were married. They met in a scared grove with a priest who mumbled the Latin words over their bowed heads. Nothing changed except for more smiles were exchanged between the happy couple. No one seemed to notice, no one except Alaine.

Despite her happiness for her friends, every secret smile that she was privy to, tour a little piece of her heart.

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I know it's shorter than my others, but this seemed like a good stopping place. We all know what's going to happen next and I wanted a little happiness for William and Murron before we really get into things.

Another note, I'm changing the rating of the story to M. With my plans for the future, a T rating probably wont cover everything and I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Review and let me know what you think : )

I'd like to get three more reviews before I publish the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Thanks so much Taylor for all the support. You completely made my day : )

Thanks also to Don for being forthright, frank and extremely helpful.

Notice: Some graphic violence towards the end of the chapter.

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Part VI

'Thwack'

Alaine reached behind her and fished for another arrow. She set the wooden shaft straight, lining it up, holding the end with her thumb. Closing one eye, she gauged the distance to the hay bale once more.

She could feel the rush of wind past her ear and hear the sweet song of the bowstring.

'Thwack'

This one was off the center by no more than an inch. But before Alaine could choose her next arrow, the sound of hoof beats filled the air.

"Alaine. Alaine." 

A small bay hurtled around the Campbell croft and came to a stand still in a storm of dust and hooves. Her rider was a boy of lanky and long proportions with a rather prominent nose.

"Mal, what is it? What's wrong?"

Alaine lifted her quiver over her head and leaned it against a log.

"Tis William and Murron. They're in trouble."

Panic reared its head inside of Alaine's chest. '_You knew this could never l_ast," a voice in the back of her head whispered. She shook her head and bent down to be face to face with Mal.

"Tell me what's going on."

Mal gulped in a great breath before speaking.

"Something happened with Bottoms' soldiers. Some tried to rape Murron but Wallace stopped them. Now he's taken off, but they've got Murron."

Alaine pulled the boy to her, trying to sooth his breathing.

"Wait here. Tell my mother what's happened and wait for my father and brother to return. I'll bring your horse back to the croft."

Without another thought Alaine vaulted onto the back of Mal's bay and dug her heels in.

She rode as fast as the bay could run. Her legs were wrapped tight and her fingers twisted in its mane.

What could have possibly happened? She hadn't wanted to admit it, but during the past months a voice in the back of her head kept nagging at her about Murron and William's relationship. Somehow, deep inside, Alaine knew that their marriage wouldn't stay hidden for long.

It couldn't have been more than a few miles to the village, but the ride seemed to take an eternity. The entire village was unearthly silent as Alaine rode in.

The morning's mist had not yet disappeared in the low lying village. Fingers of smoky gray wove around the houses and played among the bay's legs.

The sound of the bay's hooves shattered the silence that covered the village like a blanket.

Alaine dismounted, her heart pounding. She tied the bay to a railing and made her way through the village on foot.

It looked like the villagers had just up and left. A cooking fire sill burning could be seen through an open doorway. Skeins of wool dangled in the breeze outside yet another home. A meal of roast potatoes had been abandoned.

Alaine rounded the corner of the last house that stood between her and the commons. A large crowd had gathered, everyone from the village, judging by the looks of things. No one moved. No one spoke. All eyes were forward.

Bodies moved away from her as Alaine pushed through. No one dared stand in her way.

"Lass, you'll not want to go any farther." One of the wives placed her hand on Alaine's arm, more to steady her than to hold her back.

Alaine never turned her head, she shrugged the woman's arm loose and continued forward.

"I have taken such great pains never to be too strict, nor too rigid with the application of our laws. Have we not learned to live together in relative peace? And this is how you repay me?"

Lord Bottoms' magistrate was standing in the middle of the commons. With his last words he flung a hand out, motioning at the whipping post.

Today there was no wretch tied up awaiting the blows of a whip. Murron was tied there instead.

Alaine froze halfway between bodies, unable to move forward or backward. It was the fear in Murron's eyes that held Alaine. She had never seen the other girl with such a look upon her face.

"Well you leave me with no choice. An attack on the king's soldiers is the same as an attack on the king himself."

The magistrate pulled his hand back and prepared himself.

At that moment Murron turned her head and caught sight of Alaine. The mixture of anguish and strength found in her eyes broke Alaine from her spell.

"Nooooooooo!"

Alaine leapt forward, straining at the arms that held her back.

"Noooo, Murron!"

Her legs pumping furiously, trying to carry her to the post. Her arms stretched outward. If only she could reach.

The magistrate took no notice of the ruckus coming from behind him. With one deft movement, he brought his hand back and then swung it forward.

For the moment after it looked as if his knife had missed its target. Then a red welt appeared across Murron's neck and a wave of blood drenched the front of her gown. It was if the blood had appeared there in the blink of an eye.

Alaine's cries filled the air, preventing Murron's last breaths from being heard. Murron's head lolled to one side as her empty body slumped to the ground.

"Murron…."

Alaine's throat was raw and scorched. Words died on her lips as her legs crumpled beneath her. The arms that had restrained her now set her down gently.

The magistrate turned his back on Murron's body and calmly cleaned the blood from his knife. "Now, let this scrapper come to me." 

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I'm not sure what to say here. The next chapter will be up later tonight.


	7. Chapter 7 part 1

I love Braveheart, and being of Scottish descent, the story has always intrigued me. This is my effort to retell the story portrayed in the film, and add my own little twist to things

; )

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected to it, however Alaine Campbell is my own creation.

--

Part VII

'Now he can be yours.'

That though broke through the fog in Alaine's mind. She blinked, clearing her eyes. Her body felt stiff, unused, tight. Her fingers flared with pain as she tried to flex them. It was causing too much pain to move or think, so she would do neither until it hurt no more.

"How is she?"

William bent over Alaine, reaching forward to brush a strand of her coppery hair back. His hair was matted with sweat and blood. Blood had caked itself underneath his fingernails and dried stiff on his clothing. The sweat on his back had not fully dried yet and he felt a shiver go through him as a errant draft passed through his tunic.

Once more the fog in Alaine's mind was parted; this time the smell of iron and death broke through. Alaine tilted her head, her muscles protesting at the movement. Her eyes focused, searching for the source of the iron smell, and found William's face.

At least she thought it was William. Dried blood speckled a cheek and a cut across his forehead had crusted over. His eyes were still the same cool blue of a stormy sky. But something had changed. It wasn't the blood or the wound. It wasn't the smell or the dirt. Alaine's eyes roamed over William's face, searching for what was missing, trying to figure out what was different.

Suddenly the answer struck Alaine deep in her chest. She took a harsh breath in, the air burning in her lungs. There was a hardness in William's face, in his eyes, that had not been there before. The hint of laughter that had always danced in his eyes was gone. Anger and a deeply buried sadness had replaced it.

Alaine reached forward, her fingertips brushing over William's cheek and lips.

"What happened? Where am I?" Alaine's voice creaked and sounded rough as if she hadn't spoken in years.

--

Just a little update. I'll have more of Chapter Seven up in less than a week. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Please review : )


	8. Chapter 7 part 2

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything associated with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creating and this story is from my wildest fantasies.

I know that I'm posting Chapter 7 in bits and pieces, but I feel so bad about abandoning you guys for so long that I want to get to you all the latest "Fairheart" as soon as I write it. Enjoy!

--

Part VII ii

Alaine chewed automatically, not tasting her food. Her teeth ground together with every bite. Meat, potatoes, it all tasted the same; it all tasted like ash. Food had lost its taste, the land had lost its color, life had lost any meaning it once had.

It seemed like a joke that Alaine once could not comprehend the English's cruelty. She had gone along with her father's business because it allowed her to play at being a warrior. She had gone along with the Scottish Lords' hatred of the English because it was easy.

But now everything had gotten harder. Eating, walking, talking, even breathing. Only the song of the bow string and the clash of steal on steal was the only thing that kept her going. She had practiced weapons almost never ceasing for the past few days. Her muscles ached and her fingers bled from new calluses, but the pain was nothing to what Alaine kept locked up deep inside of her, unwilling to acknowledge it.

A flurry of hooves came from outside. Voices, soft and indistinguishable came from the lean-to where the cow lived. Only snatches of the whispered conversation could be heard.

"Will she be alright?"

"It's been hard….."

"I need you both now."

A murmured agreement and then the voices fell silent once more.

A few moments later the door to the Campbell's croft swung open letting in a sudden shaft of sunshine. Alaine blinked at the sudden light and cowered back, her arms drawing protectively over her bowl.

"Alaine?"

William crouched down next to Alaine, studying her, searching for a sign of understanding.

"Alaine, how are thee fairing?"

She shrugged, unwilling to put the effort into forming words.

"Alaine, I need your help," William said softly. "Please….?"



"What…" Alaine stopped, licked her lips and began again. "What is it that you need Will?"

--

Please read and review. The next part of Chapter 7 will be up soon.


	9. Chapter 8

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything associated with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creating and this story is from my wildest fantasies.

I am so sorry about the delay between chapters. I've just started my second year of college and between classes, work and a new boyfriend (we just celebrated our 2 months!), it's been hard to find time to write. But now that things have settled down, I promise at least one new chapter ever week. Enjoy and welcome back : )

--

Part VIII

A great skirmish had broken out between William and Lord Bottoms' men after Murron's death. Hammish and the Elder Campbell had fought alongside William. Other villagers joined in. The English soldiers died like the dogs they were.

Alaine had no memory of the last few days. Only shards remained. William's blood speckled face. Slicing her finger on a knife and watching the blood drip until Hamish discovered her and had tended to the cut. Only bits and pieces remained, floating aimlessly behind Alaine's eyes every time she closed them.

It was only when William approached her, wanting, needing, her help that the fog lifted and Alaine was once more aware of her surroundings.

That day they buried Murron's body. Alaine herself had washed her friend's lifeless body and had helped Murron's mother wrap it in white cloth. A dull ache spread through Alaine as she watched William's last kiss to his beloved. Despite everything, the pain buried deep and the hate that burned white hot in her breast, her heart sluggishly beat every time William's blue eyes caught her own.

Alaine turned her head, not wanting to watch them place Murron's body into the ground, and hating herself for the conflicting feelings warring inside of her.

Later that night the men of the village gathered in a field near the Campbell croft. Fires were lit and meat roasted even though no one felt like eating.

The Elder Hamish had suffered a wound during the fighting a few days before. He had been swilling drink since the sun had gone down in preparation for the wound to be sealed with a burning iron.

"Well, wat are yee waiting for boy?"

Ham plucked the hot brand from the fire, eyed the glowing tip and then his father and turned to Liam. "Here, I'll hold him down."

Liam eyed the drunken Campbell and caught the shoulder of a passing man. "Here, you do it. I'll help Hamish hold him down."

The man eyed the iron and rolled up his sleeves. Alaine ducked under the arm of a passing man carrying spears on his shoulder. She gripped her father's shoulder and leaned on it, putting all of her strength into holding him down.



It took only a few moments to cauterize the wound but the Elder Hamish roared as if he had been burned for hours.

Aliane released her father with a roll of her eyes. Despite all his strength and bluster, he could still be a child about the smallest of things.

"There's someone coming!"

The cry went up through the camp. A flurry of activity broke out as men reached for swords, axes, spears, anything they could get their hands on.

Alaine rushed to the pile of her family's things and snatched up her quiver and bow. She slung the arrows over her should as she ran to the bridge.

Hamish rushed to alert William and the two of them joined Alaine in the crowd.

" MacGregors," The Elder Campbell called out. "From the next clan."

The group of newcomers slowed before and came to a stand still.

"We heard about what was happenin' and don't want you Amadans thinkin' you can have your fun without us."

William shook his head no at the MacGregor who had addressed the crowd.

"Nae. Go home. Some of us are in this and cannae help it. But you can help yourselves. Go home."

"We'll hae no homes when the English comes in and burn them."

William sighed. He knew he could use the MacGregor men and there was little chance they would obey him and return home. He hung his head slightly and nodded.

Joyful cries broke out as the two clans came together, sharing greetings and hand shakes.

"What's this now? Wallace lets the whores carry weapons now?"

Alaine turned and narrowed her eyes at the two MacGregor men behind her. One of them leered at her and tugged at the front of his kilt in a suggestive manner.

"How about it lass? Got time for one more?"

Anger flared behind Alaine's breast bone.

"I'd take those words back if I were yee," she growled, one hand going to the knife at her waist.

"Or wat? You'll charge me more?"

The two men guffawed. One eyed Alaine up and down and licked his lips.

"Come on now sweetie. Be a good girl and give me a kiss."



Willaim had noticed the exchange between the two MacGregor's and Alaine. He stood apart, silently watching them. The men had to learn Alaine was off limits unless she so chose otherwise and they had to learn it from her or she would be continuously harassed. He'd step in if things got too out of hand.

It took less than a blink of an eye for Alaine to cross the few yards between her and the letchers. She pulled her arm back and let it fly. Her fist connected straight on with the man's mouth. She felt his lips part and his teeth scrape against her knuckles.

"How's that for a kiss?"

The man backed up a step, one hand cradling his bleeding mouth, his eyes were wide with shock.

"I am nae a whore and if you suggest so again I'll be giving yee a 'kiss' in a more painful spot."

Alaine glared at the other man who was cradling his friend's shoulders before whipping around and stocking off.

William shook his head in amusement, a slight smile hovering over his lips, his first smile in days. Alaine could take care of herself. He was proud of the woman and the warrior she had become, but he did not envy which man she did finally decide to kiss. As much as he loved Alaine, he did not relish being the target of her famous temper.

--

Sorry that there's not much action in this chapter. Read and review, no flames please. I'll have the next chapter up by next Tuesday.

Much love to everyone : )


	10. Chapter 9

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything associated with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creating and this story is from my wildest fantasies.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed: gabbylynn, Lauren Grant, Allylynn, Taylor Chesney, GracieClaire and IKeepMyGoldFishInMyBra (which is sort of an odd place for fish and I can't imagine it being very comfortable, but she did add my story to the Braveheart community, so major thanks to her!)

Thanks for all the reviews, it really does mean a lot to me : )

But here you go, fresh and piping hot, another chapter of Fairheart

--

Part IX

Alaine drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her heart was still racing and her legs tingled with pin pricks up and down her calves.

It seemed like they had been running for weeks. They had crossed rivers and hills. They had run through forests and over the moors.

As William drove them on, more and more men joined with them. Some coming in ones and twos, appearing one day out of the mists, running along besides them. Others came in larger groups, parlaying with William first before offering their swords to his cause.

Now with twilight approaching on the third day, William had finally called a halt to their mad dash across the country side.

Alaine had kept pace with the men, running besides the horse that carried her father. Several times she had seen furtive glances and coins exchanged between the men. She had caught Hamish making bets against her on the second afternoon. He smirked and shrugged his shoulders at her arched brow but scampered out of reach when the palm of her hand rose up.

As the sun set, the men settled down quietly, preparing to make camp for the night. Alaine lifted off her quiver of arrows with a grateful sigh. Sweat pooled between her shoulder blades and she could feel it trickle down her back. Her feet ached and her thighs felt even worse. Her aches and pains were accompanied by the loud growling of her stomach.

"Allie, can you hold off dinner for a while?"

Alaine turned, startled by the voice behind her.

William was there, his piercing blue eyes studying her, assessing her weariness and making it even harder for her to draw in a proper breath.

"I need you, Hamish and your father for something special."

He turned without waiting for Alaine's answer.

"Oh and bring your bow and quiver."

Alaine gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at his back. She reached down, every muscle protesting and gathered her things, once more slinging the quiver over her shoulders.

Alaine followed after William, weaving between a man carrying firewood and another resting on rock, pulling off his boots and rubbing life back into his toes.

"What fool thing does he have planed now?" Hamish growled coming up behind his sister.

Alaine glanced at her brother over her shoulder. "I hope it involves clean clothing and a warm meal."

"No such luck children," Hamish the Elder stood waiting for his offspring, arms crossed, resting on the hilt of his broadsword. He waited until they were abreast of him before turning and falling into step with them.

The three Campbells made their way up a short rise and joined William at the top, all of them peering over to see what had captured Wallace's attention.

On the other side of the ridge was a beaten dirt path that wound between the trees before disappearing into the foliage.

"Bottoms' castle is at the other end of that road."

William's voice was flat and no-nonsense.

"Tomorrow, shortly after dawn, a contingent of Bottoms' men are suppose to march on through here. I mean to kill them all, take their uniforms and continue on to Bottoms' keep."

William turned to face the three.

"There should be no more than fifty men coming. We have nearly twice that. Allie, I need you to find a place where you can hide and take down any man who makes it through the battle and tries to ride to warn Bottoms. We cannot afford him any warning."

Alaine nodded and turned to survey the ridge. Down the ridge from where they were standing was a rocky outcrop that would provide cover for her and was an excellent vantage point over the road.

"There," Alaine said, pointing. "I'll set up there."

William nodded, pleased with her.

"We'll divide the men into groups and place them here, here, and here," William pointed as he spoke. "Hamish you will take the right, Elder Hamish will have the middle and I will take the left."

The three turned to discuss tactics for the coming morn. Alaine watched them stroll down the ridge, testing the footing and pointing out various features of the ridge and the road below it.

Alaine turned and once more surveyed the spot where she would be positioned at. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth and she bit down, a sudden way of nerves washing over her.

Ever since she was a young lass, this was what she wanted. She wanted to grow up to be a warrior like Ham and William. Only now they were all grown up and they weren't playing games any more.

Alaine looked down at her hands. Large palms and lithe fingers covered in calluses and browned from working the family croft.

Her mother hated her hands. Gerda would shake her head and cluck her tongue, muttering comments about no man wanting to marry a girl with such hands, every time she glimpsed Alaine's hands.

Alaine clenched her hands into fists. Tomorrow she might have to take another's life. She had never killed anyone before. Indeed, throughout all of her weapons training, she had never thought about what it was exactly she was being trained for.

Perhaps none of Bottoms' men would get through and she wouldn't have to take a life.

"Allie?"

Alaine's head whipped up at the sound of her name and she dropped her hands to her sides.

Hamish, Da, and William had paused, waiting for her.

"Come on now, dinner."

Alaine nodded and started towards them.

That night after everyone had eaten their fill, William, Hamish the Elder and Young Ham, detailed the battle plans for the men. Afterwards the camp grew silent quickly, most wanting a full night's rest before the next morn, others wanting to be left alone with their thoughts.

Alaine crawled under her cloak, pulling it close, telling herself it was the damp ground that chilled her bones and not her fears about the next morning.

Slowly sleep overtook her and she knew no more.

--

Please read and review and I should have another chapter up by at least Tuesday : )

Much Love, Ginger


	11. Chapter 10

I love Braveheart, and being of Scottish descent, the story has always intrigued me. This is my effort to retell the story portrayed in the film, and add my own little twist to things

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected to it, however Alaine Campbell is my own creation.

I am so sorry about the delay between chapters. I can offer no excuses but laziness and school. Now that summer has finally come, I now have the time to write. Please read and review : )

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The next morning dawned hot and bright. William roused the camp shortly before dawn, murmuring words of encouragement and making last minute changes to the placement of the men.

He awoke Alaine with a light touch against her shoulder. "Mornin' to thee Allie." He smiled and nodded before rising and moving on. Alaine turned onto her side and watched him walk away, a slight spring in his step. The thought that it was this morning's battle was what was making him cheerful chilled her.

As she rolled up her cloak and readied her arrows and waxed her bow string, Alaine mused over how much William had changed. They had all changed, it wasn't just William. She could sense it even inside of herself.

"Hungry?"

Hamish loomed over his sister offering her a round of bread and a piece of cold meat.

Alaine nodded gratefully and took the offered food. Setting aside her bow, she tore into the bread, moving it around in her mouth, trying to soften it.

Hamish groaned and plopped to the ground next to her.

"How are you feeling this morn?"

He didn't look at her but studied a stream of dirt he let trickle between his fingers.

Alaine shrugged, her mouth too full to reply. They sat in silence for a few moments until she had finished swallowing her breakfast.

"I'm alright." She paused for a moment. "William's giving me the outpost to keep me out of the fighting isn't he?"

Hamish sighed.

"It's nothing against you Allie. We all three agreed on it, Da, William and I. Besides, you know you're the best shot we hae. We need you at that outpost."

Alaine nodded and tossed the rest of the bread behind her. She was no longer felt like eating.

"Let's get going then."

She brushed her hands off on her tunic and stood up. Alaine turned and offered her hand to Hamish and with a groan helped him to his feet.

Alaine brushed a wisp of hair back and gathered her bow and quiver, her long knife, and a leather pouch containing extra bow strings.

Together brother and sister made their way through the crowd of milling men. Coming to the ridge they paused and clasped hands. Being their father's children, neither said what they were feeling. Alaine offered her brother a smile who gripped her hand harder and clasped her arm with his free hand.

Alaine nodded and turned to make her way to her outpost. Hamish turned to gather his men and ready them in position.

As Alaine made her way across the ridge she turned and searched the crowd of men. Her eyes found her father who nodded, his eyes full of pride for his daughter. Next to him was William.

Alaine's breath caught inside of her at the sight of William's smile. He raised one arm in salute. Alaine raised her bow in reply.

The rocky outcrop was towards the top of the ridge just above the bend in the road before it disappeared into the woods. Alaine could glimpse the moors through the trees.

Alaine slid down the ridge and into her hidey hole. The outcrop was just big enough to cover her. No one would see her unless they came from the top of the ridge.

Alaine crouched down and readied herself. She drew out a handful of arrows and stuck them point down into the dirt at her feet. She checked to make sure her sandals were tightly laced, that her belt was buckled and the clasp on her cloak loosened so that she could pull it off at a moment's notice. Next she checked her bow and her extra strings. Everything was ready, all she could do now is wait.

It seemed like hours had passed when finally the low whistle echoed across the ridge. Alaine tensed, holding her breath. English soldiers had been sighted!

Slowly she rolled from her back onto her side, half sitting, half laying concealed. She peered through the rocks but could see nothing but an empty stretch of road and a swatch of coarse grass.

Her rocky outcrop provided excellent coverage but denied Alaine a glimpse of what was happening without revealing herself. Slowly the sounds of fighting drifted over her. The battle cries of the clans, the clang of metal on metal, the screams of horses and, most horrible of all, the grunts and groans of the men surrounding her.

Alaine finally drew in a long breath and using her arms, lifted herself into a squatting position, allowing her to peak over her rocky protectors. The battle raged on the slopes of the ridge and along the length of the road. Men and horses were locked together, their feet kicking up dust, making it hard to see what was happening.

One rider broke away from the seething knot of men. He was mounted and his tunic showed him to be English. He swung his sword and cut through several men, making his way through the battle.

Alaine dropped back behind the rocks. Her breath came in gasps as a peculiar prickling feeling danced along her scalp. She had just moments to make her decision. It was clear that the rider was going to break through the clans and to the safety of the fort across the moors. Only Alaine could stop him now. Despite her years of training, she had never taken another's life and now that she was about to do so, her fingers shook so much she did not think she could hold her bow.

Alaine took in a shaky breath and gripped her bow. She caught up an arrow and notched it. She stood up, her eyes searching for her quarry. Finally she found him, he was almost out of range, rounding the bend. She drew back her arm, sighting the rider down the length of her arrow. As she exhaled, she let go, sending the arrow flying.

The arrow caught the man between his shoulder blades. He stiffened and slid off of his horse. His head bounced as it hit the ground but he moved no more.

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope to have another chapter up soon.

Love, Ginger 


	12. Chapter 11

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected to it, however Alaine Campbell is my own creation.

Lauren Grant: Thanks for your review and for being a loyal reader. Don't worry, Alaine wouldn't let me leave her story unfinished. I apologize about my long leave of absence, but I am back now 

The Deadly Angel: Thanks of the encouragement and please don't cry, that would make me feel terrible.

Gabbylynn: Here ya go! I hope you enjoy.

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~Part XI~

Three….

She had killed three men today.

Alaine leaned over and retched again. Bile filled her mouth and spilled out. Her throat hurt from vomiting once again. Her hand clenched against her stomach, the other holding her hair back.

"Allie?"

William slid down and kneeled next to her. "Are you all right?" He put one arm around her, pulling her to his chest.

"I'm sorry Will…" Alaine wiped her mouth, grimacing at the lingering taste.

William cradled her head to his chest, stroking her hair. "There is nothing to be sorry about Alaine. You did good today. I am so proud of you. My little warrior."

A small grin crossed her lips and her heart pitter pattered at "my". That little word seemed to make it all worth it.

"The first kill, the first few kills are always the hardest. Taking another man's life should never be easy. You should never get use to it. But you do learn to do it, to handle it. You will always keep the men you kill in your memory, and that is how it should be."

Alaine took William's words to heart. It was necessary for her, for them, to fight, to kill. She nodded once more, inhaling, steeling herself against what would come.

"Now, here take a sip of water and clean your mouth out." William held out his water skein, uncapping it for her.

"We have much to do."

o0o

Alaine watched as Bottoms' stronghold burned. She and most of the men had watched as William, the Campbells and a few others rode into the fort, disguised as English soldiers. Liam had his revenge, killing Bottoms himself. And William, well William Wallace had his rebellion…

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I know this is short but I'm going on vacation tomorrow so I've been a little busy. I should have another chapter up in a few days, by next Monday at the latest. I hope you enjoyed this 

Love, Ginger


	13. Chapter 12

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Sorry about the delay in getting it up, but it's been busy around the Ginger household (lol). I am sorry about the short length of the last chapter but I hope this one makes up for it. Please read and review : )

Thanks once again to everyone who does review. It means a lot of me that you guys are enjoying this and that you have stuck with the story even through my loooonnnnggg dry spells. I really appreciate it!

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~Part XII~

The English did not sit by and let the Scotts run rampant. They burned villages, attacked crofts and slaughtered anyone who stood in their way. William and his men lived like animals, running across the land, savaging for food, weapons, clothing, anything that may have been of use. They fought when they could, winning skirmishes here and there.

o0o

Alaine held her fingers close to the fire, rubbing them together, trying to create some heat. She and five others, William's fastest runners, had been set out on the moors to await the English. They had been there since dawn, building their fire, seemingly defenseless and out-numbered.

Alaine had spent the day looking over her shoulder, expecting the English to find them and ride them down at any moment. Any little movement or noise sent her scrambling for her borrowed sword. She was a sure shot with a bow but if the English did attack there would be no room for her to fire and so Hamish had lent her his sword.

The other men huddled around the fire, surely they were just as nervous as she was. They had talked little throughout the day, only speaking to share bread and to gather more peat for their fire.

They were sitting on top of a steep ridge, one that allowed their fire to be seen for miles. Alaine knew this would normally be very foolish but William had a plan and she placed her trust in him.

At the thought of William, Alaine's heart skipped a beat. The pesky thing had been skipping a lot of beats lately. Every time William's blue eyes met hers, or she heard his voice, or when he touched her, brushing her shoulder or their fingers meeting as they shared a meal. Really her heart misfired at anything to do with William at all.

It was all becoming rather bothersome. Alaine did not want to admit her feelings for William, nor could she deny them. Ever since they were small, she had felt something for him. But ever since they were small he had eyes for only Murron. Alaine would not allow herself to hope but somehow a little bit of hope had snuck in. Just enough hope to make William's glances and touches to burn and to sooth all at the same time.

Alaine shook her head, bringing herself out of her thoughts. There was no place for love or romance here. There was no time for it. And besides, she would be much too hurt if William did not return her feelings even if there were time for such things.

"Hie there!"

The cry startled Alaine and the others. They scrambled to their feet, drawing swords. A company of English soldiers was riding over the ridge towards them. Alaine turned, picking up her pace, willing her feet to move and her knees to bend.

"After them!" The English commander pointed at the backs of the Scotsmen and whipped his horse after them.

Alaine ran as hard as she could. Her body seemed to vibrate with every footstep. It became harder and harder to draw air into her lungs and what air that did make it, burned her throat.

Collum and Cormac, the twins from the MacCutcheon clan, ran next to her. One stumbled but quickly righted himself.

"Hurry-" Alaine gasped, picking up speed. She dared not to look over her shoulder to see how close the English were.

The runners soon crested a low rise and came face to face with an imposing wall of rock. They had reached the base of the cliffs. The English were right behind them. The hooves of their horses rang against stone, echoing off of the cliff face, and making Alaine's ears ring.

Suddenly there was no more room. The runners had reached the cliff wall. Alaine drew her sword and turned to face the English. Her heart was racing. Her breath coming in painful gasps. She was getting out of shape if a run as short as that winded her.

"No point in resisting. You are outnumbered and trapped. Now where is the rest of you? Where is Wallace?"

Alaine kept her eyes on the English officer, but out of the corner of her eye she could see men stepping forward to ring the top of the cliff.

A stone, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, flew through the air and hit the officer's helm. The resulting rang echoed through the air.

Alaine ducked and weaved around a rearing horse, stabbing a soldier as he reached to trip her. Another death to carry inside of her but this time the queasy feeling did not appear in her stomach. Men were flailing all around her. She saw a young Scottish boy fall, his killer soon cut down by the boy's older brother. Horses screamed and danced through the seething mass of men. Arrows rained down from the cliffs, one barely skimming Alaine's back. She turned and searched for a way out of the mess of man and horse flesh. She shoved past two grappling men and ducked under a sword thrust.

Suddenly a hand gripped her arm and hosited her off of the ground. "Nae what did ai tell you aboat staying out of trouble?"

Alaine turned and found her face to face with her brother. "Let ma down Ham, you great lump."

Hamish turned and set his sister down outside of the mass of men. "Nae stay here and keep that thick head of yours down." He took the sword from Alaine's hands and waded back into the fight.

The skirmish was fast and furious with the British fighting for their lives. Alaine watched the rest of it from the edge, occasionally knocking heads or wounding with her dagger when the occasion called for it.

As soon as it had began, the fight was over. A handful of British soldiers were left, throwing down their swords and surrendering. The moor was a mess with the moss and stone slick with blood. Bodies littered the ground and the cries of the wounded and dying filled the air.

Alaine herself was covered in blood but, after a thorough check from her father, none of it was her's. Her hair hung in lumps, matted with who knows what. Her kilt was torn and muddied. Alaine's knees were scabbed and she had a sizable bruise around her eye where she had taken a fist to her face. She was bone weary, cold, and hungry.

William approached her, looking as fresh as a flower. "Alaine…" He held his arms out and held her tight to him. "I do believe you are the toughest person here. You are a true Campbell and warrior. But for now, rest, there are others who can tend to the wounded and others to handled the captives. Go now, go back to camp." He released her, looking her over, searching for any ills. He reached out, cradling her cheek in his palm, a slight grin crossing his face. "That is quite a bruise you have there. See if there is any raw meat for you." His thumb stroked lightly over her skin. He stared at her for another moment before shaking his head with a snort and turning away to attend to the aftermath.

Alaine slowly lifted her hand to her cheek, touching where William's hand had just been. She smiled softly, all of her hurts and complaints gone for the moment. Oh how that man's blue eyes made her weak at the knees!

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Hope you all enjoyed! Fun fact for you all: MacCutcheon was my grandmother's maiden name. I wanted to work it into the story somehow as a little tribute to her.

And thanks in advance to all of your lovely reviews 

Hugs and kisses, Ginger


	14. Chapter 13

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Sorry about the delay again :/

Read and enjoy 

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Part XIII

The days were filled with running and warring. The nights were filled with hard stones and cold ground, little sleep and hours on watch. Soon news of the rebellion reached the ears of the Scottish nobles. Slowly the northern lords lent their support. Fresh men joined William's army. Better weapons were issued. Better meat was roasted over fires. Bread was no longer moldy and one could bite into it without fear of weevils.

Alaine's armor became battle scarred and pitted. Her boots became worn. New calluses formed on her hands. A thin cut on her cheek, stretching from her ear to jaw became a pink scar. While she carried her death within her, the act of killing a man had become easier. She could no detach herself from it, watching her actions as if they belonged to another. Later, in the deep of the night, the deaths played themselves over and over again behind her eyes and she knew only tears, and hardly slept at all.

o0o

Liam dipped his fingers into the pot and scooped up a handful of porridge. He was sharing the pot with the three Campbells and William. The porridge was warm as it trickled down his throat. He ripped into a hunk of bread, chewing slowly.

Alaine had no appetite, watching the others eat. She nibbled at the bread but could not swallow anything. Her entire body hurt, the pain seemingly etched into her bones. While it was no longer so cold during the day, she could never seem to be warm enough. Life on the run was harsh and Alaine was slowly losing her battle against it.

"Yae know, eventually Longshanks will send his entire northern army against us."

William broke through the silence that had ringed the fire.

"There will be cavalry," Hamish the Elder added. "Man and horse to shake the very ground."

A shiver went up Alaine's spine at such a thought. While they had managed fairly well against the English so far, if Longshanks sent his army against them, William, her da, Ham, Liam, even herself, all of them would be crushed like ants under a boot heel.

"They'll ride right over us," Ham said, voicing Alaine's fears. "What do we do?"

"Run and hide, that's the Highland way," Hamish the Elder said with a shrug.

William's eyes casted around, watching the trees. Alaine watched him, holding her breath.

"We'll make spears," William finally said.

"Hundreds of them. Long spears, twice as long as a man." An excited looked crossed William's face as he warmed to his plan.

"That long?" Alaine finally spoke, trying to imagine a spear so long.

"Aye," William answered.

"Some men are longer than others," came Ham.

"Telling stories about me again?" joked Hamish the Elder. He flashed an amused look at his daughter who was blushing red from the thought of such stories being told about her father. The men all laughed. It was the first laugh they had had in days.

A cry of "Volunteers coming in!" broke through the group. Alaine turned, craning her neck to see who was approaching.

Two men wearing un-dyed kilts came forward. One was slightly older, grey hair dusting through his brown. The other man had lanky black hair that fell forward into his eyes. He paced behind the first man, glancing this way and that.

Alaine stood up, one hand going to the sword at her waist, the other automatically reaching for the arrows at her back.

William stepped forward as the older man fell to his knees before him.

"William Wallace, we've come to fight for you!"

William shook his head slightly, embarrassed by the man's actions.

"Stand up man, I'm nae the Pope."

The man smiled and got to his feet. " My name is Faudron. My sword is yours. I brought you this." He reached inside his tunic for something.

Alaine and Ham reached immediately. She leapt for the man, one hand bringing forth a knife, the other going out to steady herself. Ham reached for his arm, restraining the man.

Alan, the guard who had brought the man forward, stepped forward. "We checked 'em for arms."

Faudron glanced at Alaine and Ham amused. "I brought you this." He pulled out a sash of a gorgeous dark color covered in white markings. "My wife made it for you."

Alaine took a step backwards, arranging her face into a mask of calm. She still kept her dagger out and at the ready.

William stepped forward and accepted the sash.

As he did, a low chuckle sounded through the clearing. The smaller dark haired man wandered in front of Ham, laughing as he did so.

A soft growl rose from Hamish's throat and his face flushed.

"Him? That can't be William Wallace." The man, still chuckling, walked passed Alaine, not sparing her a glance, and made his way to the pot of porridge. He stuck a spoon into it, stirring the meal. "I am prettier than this man." He looked to the sky before lifting the spoon to his mouth and sipping.

Alaine's hackles rose. Who did this man think he was? Coming into their camp, insulting William and eating their food. Why he must be mad for he kept looking at the sky as he spoke.

"Alright, Father, I'll ask him." He set the spoon down and with his mouth still full, he approached William. "If I risk my neck for you, will I get a chance to kill Englishmen?"

Hamish also took a step closer to William. "Is your father a ghost, or do you converse with the Almighty?"

Alaine snorted softly. She could tell this mad Irishman was getting under her brother's skin, much like he was getting under her's.

"In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God."

Alaine could see a hint of a dimple in the man's cheeks as he answered her brother.

"Yes Father!" He paused for a moment before turning his head back towards Hamish. "The Almighty says, 'Don't change the subject, just answer the fucking question."

"Mind your tongue!" The word burst from Alaine. She had had enough of this strange man and his conversing with the Almighty. The Irishman beamed at her amused, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Insane Irish," Hamish the Elder muttered.

With one smooth movement, the Irishman drew a dagger, leapt across the space between them and held the knife at Hamish the Elder's neck. "Smart enough to get a dagger past your guards, old man."

Alaine started forward, her heart in her mouth. She came up behind the man, he was just a few inches taller than her, and whipped the knife around his head, holding it at his neck. Ham, William and Liam had all drawn their weapons, leveling them at the Irishman.

"That is mae friend, Irishman. And the answer to yee question is 'yes'. You fight for me, you get to kill the English," William said.

The Irishman grinned wildly. "Excellent! Stephen is my name. I am the most wanted man on my island." He took a step back, forcing Alaine to lose her hold and fall back.

"Except I am not on my island of course. More's the pity."

"Your island? You mean Ireland." Alaine asked, partly incredulous, partly sarcastic.

Stephen turned to her, his hair falling into his eyes. He had blues eyes she could see now. They were rather pretty even if he did appear to be a bit mad.

"Yeah. It's mine." A grinned played on his lips.

Hamish snorted. "You're a madman."

Stephen laughed and nodded. Hamish joined in as did the other men. Alaine shook her head. While the others may be amused by this mad Irishman, she was not so accepting of him.

"I've come to the right place then," Stephen said. He tossed his head back and laughed.

Alaine sheathed her knife. She did not know what to make of this stranger, with his probing blue eyes, and the way he stared at her intently. She would bide her time and wait, watching him, trying to figure out what about him she just couldn't put her finger on.

Yay! A new chapter, and an extra long one at that. I hope you all enjoyed it. I promise to get things rolling again and to have a new chapter up soon. Please review and let me know what you thought 

Love Ginger 


	15. Chapter 14

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

I apologize about the delay again. Due to a new semester starting and a death in the family, it's been hard trying to find time and the inspiration to write. But somehow I've found both of those and so here is a new chapter

Hope you all enjoy it and thank you so, so much for sticking with me.

As for Alaine and the Mad Irishman, well you'll just have to read on ;)

* * *

Part XIV

It was only a few days hence when Faudron tried assassinating William. He had gone hunting by himself in the woods that surrounded their camp. Stephen and Faudron had both followed him. Stephen struck down Faudron as he crept up behind William. The Almighty had tasked him to protect William, or so he said.

This had earned Stephen a place around William's fire and a spot as his advisor. Alaine did her best to keep herself separate from the Mad Irishman. She could feel his piercing eyes on her, glittering with laughter. While both he and William had blues eyes, William's were a softer blue, with a hardness hidden just underneath. Stephen's eyes blazed. A mixture of laughter and madness and something else resided there. While William's gaze gave her butterflies; Stephen's made her skin hot and itchy, and she could not breath until he looked away.

They had stayed at their camp in the woods for several days. It was a well protected and hidden camp. The hunting was good and they had a spring nearby to supply them good, clean water. The men needed a rest, a moment or two to gather themselves, wash bedding, repair weapons and armor, and to eat their fill of food that was not cold and hard from the road.

o0o

Alaine's muscles groaned as she bent over to set her armful of wood near the fire pit. Even though this was supposed to be a period of rest for them, she had spent her days hard at work, and her nights dreaming of battle when she did finally sleep.

Alaine straightened back up, a hand going to her lower back to steady herself. Before going to war, she had always thought of herself as being in good shape; but now she knew that to be folly. The constant barrage of running and fighting had worked a set of muscles Alaine did not know she had. She was finally becoming accustomed to the endless movement and pain that throbbed through her body. Every day the pain became less and her muscles became a little bit stronger.

The others had separated after breaking their fast this morning. Liam and Ham had taken a group of men to hunt. Her da was sitting with some of the others sharpening weapons to remove the nicks and scars of battle.

William was sitting nearby. He was oiling his sword sheath. His large hands dwarfing the rag and sheath. Alaine watched his fingers as they worked the leather, smoothing the oil, working it into the sheath. His wild tangle of hair hung over one shoulder. A tendril of hair hung from his brow and danged in his eyes. Alaine wanted so badly to go to him, to smooth his hair back, caressing his brow. She blushed at this thought and turned away.

With a heavy sigh, Alaine turned to her own bedroll. She had been putting it off but it was now time for her to go through her things. All of her clothing needed a good scrubbing but she still had to see which items needed to be repaired. Sewing, as were all of the womanly arts, was not Alaine's strong suit and she had little wish to sit there pricking her fingers on needles as she tried to darn a sock.

Alaine paused as she saw her bedroll. She had made it this morning upon rising, tucking the blanket in and arranging her knapsack. But there on top of the blanket was a spring of small blue flowers.

Alaine crotched down and studied the flowers. She had seen them sprouting between the roots of trees in the forest they were in. She did not know their name though. Alaine reached out and picked up the sprig.

Each flower was small with blue petals and a creamy center. Alaine held the flowers up to her nose and breathed in their scent. They had a mild clean scent that was pleasant. Alaine smiled and twisted the sprig in her fingers.

'Who had left the flowers here?' Alaine wondered, glancing around. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met with Williams. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he nodded at her. 'Could he have given her the flowers?' Alaine's heart thudded in her chest at the thought.

Alaine blushed slightly and looked down at the flowers once more. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, thinking of a way to preserve the flowers. Finally she reached into her satchel and pulled out a square of linen. The cloth was intended to be used when her flow came but the harsh life and lack of good food had slowed the process, making Alaine's monthlies few and far between. She unfolded the linen and placed the sprig of flowers in the middle, covering them up. She wrapped the flowers tightly without crushing them and placed them in the bottom of her satchel. Hopefully the weight from everything in there would help press and preserve the flowers.

o0o

Every day from then while they camped in the woods, a small present always appeared on Alaine's bedroll. One day it was a handful of delicious blackberries. Another day it was a rock that caught the sun and sparkled as Alaine turned it this way and that. One time it was another sprig of flowers, this time the flowers were a soft yellow color. Besides the berries, which she shared around the fire one night, Alaine kept every present. The flowers joined the blue sprig in the linen and the rock was placed with care in her bag.

Every time Alaine discovered her gift, a pair of blues eyes smiled as he watched a grin of delight cross her face…

* * *

Just a silly little fluff chapter to sort of bridge things. I know it's rather short. Don't worry, I'll have a new, longer, more exciting chapter up soon I promise I will now that things have settled down.

Please review and let me know what you thought 3

Love, Ginger


	16. Chapter 15

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Argh, I am the most terrible person. I really apologize for promising to update more often and then failing miserably. It's my final semester in college and it has been hectic. But I finally have had some time off due to a horrendous spring cold

So enjoy the new chapter and leave some love 3

Part XV

Soon the word came that the English were raising an army, intending to march north and smash the Scottish rebels once and for all. Only Robert the Bruce answered this by raising what few of the Scottish nobles that followed his word. Once this news had reached the hills, the Highlanders set aside their petty disputes and began trickling down from their castles and keeps in search of a fight.

This was no longer a band of rebellious farmers running around the countryside attacking whatever English soldiers they came across. This had grown much larger, more vast than Alaine, the Campbell men, Liam, any of them had imagined. Except for William, perhaps he had an inkling what he was getting all of them into. Perhaps he knew what he had created and what it was becoming. For it was no longer a rebellion, for now war had been declared.

o0o

The scent of smoke from the breakfast fires still lingered in the air. Alaine was bent over her bedroll trying to fit everything into it so she could finish packing. They were breaking camp and preparing to ride to Stirling. Word had it that the Scottish nobles had gathered an army there and were intending to stand against the English.

Alaine reached to her side, absently mindedly searching for prized wooden spoon. Her fingers met something warm and smooth, something that was definitely not wood. She turned in surprise to find the Mad Irishman kneeling by her side. He had picked up her spoon and was holding it out to her. Her hand was still resting on his and she drew it back quickly, a blush staining her cheeks.

"Here lass." His words were soft and he glanced up at her through his wildly braided locks.

Alaine snatched the spoon from him, her blush deepening. She nodded her thanks, not trusting her voice not to rasp or squeak.

"Yea prepared for what's to come?"

Alaine cleared her throat before answering. "Aye. This isn't mae first time to do battle. I am more thane capable of handling myself."

Stephen let loose a low chuckle. "Of that I donnae doubt. But this lassie, this is something else. Something few of us hae ever seen before. Your da knows, but you and your brother, even Wallace himself, hae never seen battle on this scale before."

"So what is your point Irishman?" Alaine was angry at the perceived insult against William moreso than herself and her brother.

Stephen held up a hand as if to ward off her anger. "No point Fair One, just wanting to know if you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I am more than ready for this and yea best nae doubt William nor his followers Irishman," Alaine hissed.

Stephen chuckled again setting off another look of fury across Alaine's face. "Well lassie, one of us has to keep yea out of trouble, it might as well be me." And with that he stood up and strolled off across the camp.

Alaine watched him leave, barely containing herself from shouting after him. How dare he presume she was not ready for battle? She had killed before and was prepared to do so again. And William knew perfectly well what he was about to do. Why else would she or any of them be following him?

"The Irishman goading you again sister?"

Hammish came to stand by his sister, looking down at her with a bemused look on his face.

"Ach, he speaks without knowing. Asking if we knew what was to come. Acting as if we were nae prepared."

Hammish knelt by her and helped her roll up her bedroll, tucking in the sides and securing it. "Donnae let him get under your skin Wee One, but he does hae a point." Hammish held up a hand, halting Alaine's protests. "None of us hae seen fighting on this scale. There will be hundreds, thousands of men at Stirling. We hae never gone up against an English army this well prepared. It will be a challenge for all of us, but one we will get through one way or another."

He handed Alaine her bedroll which she tied to the rest of her pack. "Now let's get you ready for battle."

The two siblings helped each other secure the boiled leather and studded armor that the rebels wore. Over Hammish's right shoulder and across his chest Alaine secured a sash with the blue and green Campbell colors on it. He did the same, securing it with a large brooch depicting a thistle ringed with knot work.

Alaine's eyes opened wide at the sight of the brooch. It had been her mother's most prized position. It had been in her family for many generations and was to be handed down to Alaine on her wedding day.

Hammish the Elder had silently come up behind his children and had been watching them ready each other for battle. "Yea mother wanted you to hae this. Since the prospect of yea wedding day never came, she thought it would at least bring you some measure of peace and protection."

He came forward and clasped her hand, his other going to Hammish's shoulder. "I cannae not be more proud of yea nor wish for better children for none are as fierce nor brave as thee." Hammish the Elder's emotions got the better of him and he fell silent, beaming at his offspring.

Alaine could feel the prickling of tears in her eyes as she beheld her family. "Da…" She could barely get the words out.

Hammish raised his hand. "Nae, no more of this, it is time."

I know it's a little short, but the next one will be much longer, I promise.

Read and review

Love, Ginger


	17. Chapter 16

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Here is another chapter for your reading pleasure

Part XVI

Stirling

The Scottish army was assembled at Stirling intending to stand against the English. Outnumbered and faced with the prospect of three hundred heavy horsemen, talk between the Scottish soldiers was uneasy. Suddenly a forest of lances could be seen coming over hill, silhouetted against the blue-gray sky. The sound of thousands of boots pounding the ground echoed off the land, making it sound like rolling thunder. Hundreds of horse hooves trampling the grass added to the din, vibrating the ground beneath their feet.

"Alright lads, I hae no time for these bastards. Let's go home."

At once a great commotion arose from the Scots. Men turned and began streaming away from the battlefield, heads hung low, feet trudging through the mud and grass.

o0o

William rode lead, his hair streaming out behind him. Almost his entire face was painted blue, only a triangular wedge across the left side of his face was kept clear of wode. Behind him rode the Hammishes, Stephen, Liam, Alaine and a few others of William's men.

They slowed as they crested the hill, men streaming by them on all sides. Alaine glanced around confused. Where were these men going? Were they deserting?

She had braided her hair back in three tight braids that began one at her crown, and one on either side of her head. The pressed flowers given to her from her secret admirer had been woven in, giving her the appearance of attending a village fair rather than riding to battle. Blue wode swirls decorated each cheek and flowed up her forehead to meet above her brow. All of this, along with the scowl fixed to her face, made her appear stern and foreboding.

Because of the nature of this battle, her bow and arrows would be of little use to her. She was mounted on her roan and would be charging with the rest of William's group. Her father and brother were not happy with this but they needed every rider they could get and they had little choice in the matter. Instead she was armed with a long battle axe, its twin in her brother's hand. It was secured to her back within grasp should she need it. Her sword was belted on her right side and a small wooden shield with a steel cap was secured to her saddle on her left.

---

A pair of blues eyes kept glancing back at her, checking to make sure she was holding up alright. The sight of his presents, the flowers, in her hair had made him smile. He had watched with admiration as she applied her war paint. While Alaine may have been lacking in the feminine arts, she possessed a gracefulness and a wild beauty he had never seen belonging to another woman. She spoke with precision, choosing her words carefully except when her Scottish temper got the best of her. He could see that she possessed fair manners despite living in a war camp among rowdy men. He smiled again at the sight of her scowl. He intended to stick close to her throughout this whole ordeal. For if she were to be harmed, or God forbid, die, he would never forgive himself.

---

They rode through the rebel army, the men parting before them. Alaine could hear the men whisper among themselves as it dawned on them who they were.

"That cannae be William Wallace. He is nae tall enough."

Alaine snorted at this. They had all heard the outlandish tales being told about William Wallace. She found the ones about him not being tall enough to be particularly humorous because from where she stood, he was plenty tall enough already.

"The Almighty says this must be a fashionable fight for it has drawn the finest people," Stephen joked as they reigned in their horses before the nobles.

"For presenting yourselves on the battle field, I give you thanks," William addressed to Lochlan, one of the Scottish lords.

"This is our army. To join it you must give homage," Lochlan responded.

William smirked at this notion. "I give homage to Scotland. And if this is your army, why does it go?" He wheeled his horse around and began riding down the front line.

An older soldier standing slightly behind Alaine's horse called out; "We didnae come here to fight for them."

A young soldier next to him added his voice to the argument. "The English are too many."

Alaine's horse shielded at the outburst of voices from the crowd. Stephen directed his horse close to hers in an effort to calm its nerves.

"Sons of Scotland, I am William Wallace," William called out, wheedling his horse and riding back down the front line.

The young soldier who had numbered the English too many called out again; "William Wallace is seven feet tall."

William nodded. "Yes, I've heard. He kills men by the hundreds, and if he were here he'd consume the English with fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from his arse."

Alaine heard a chuckle come from Stephen at William's comment. "Now that is something I would like to see," he murmured to her. She could not contain her giggle at the mental picture this prompted.

William turned his horse again and the wind carried his words away from her and towards the uneasy men. She watched his face, strong, proud and animated. He loved his country and he loved his countrymen. Her heart thudded in her chest. She tried to tell herself it was just from nerves about the coming battle, and most of it was caused by them. But watching William inspire the men made her believe in him renew itself and she could feel the love for him grown inside of her.

"Alba gu bra!" William shouted.

Alaine raised herself from her saddle and shouted with the rest of her Scottish countrymen.

"Alba gu bra! Alba gu bra!"

o0o

I wanted to have the battle of Stirling up tonight but because it is such a large battle and such a pivotal part of the movie and this story, I want to take my time with it and do it right. I'll have it up by tomorrow night at the latest.

Fun fact: Wode is a mud based blue paint most associated with the Picts of ancient Scotland. The Picts would tattoo and/or paint their bodies with wode in an effort to scare and confuse their enemies. In the film Braveheart their painted faces have always seemed to be a homage to the Picts to me and so I chose their word, wode, for the face paint in this chapter.

Also 'alba gu bra' is a Scots Gaelic phrase meaning 'Scotland forever' and one of the many things I have tattooed ; )

Please review

Love, Ginger


	18. Chapter 17

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Warning: This chapter concerns the battle of Stirling Bridge so there will be some intense battle imagery and bloodshed. Not to mention a bare arse or two ; )

o0o

Part XVII

Stirling

Alaine reigned in her horse, turning it to face the open field and the English army on the far side. Four horsemen broke from the English lines and cantered across the open field towards the Scottish. The Scottish lords broke from them, Lochlan shooting a parting glance back at William.

Stephen glanced at William. "Ach fine speech. Now what do we do?"

William grinned at him, a wild gleam in his eye. "Just be yourselves."

Hammish smirked and glanced at Alaine, "That shouldn't be too hard."

Alaine glared back at him. "And what does that mean dear brother?"

The two were interrupted by William wheeling his horse around to face the field.

"Hey where are you goin?" Hammish called to him

"I'm going to pick a fight." And with that he took off trotting across the field after the Scottish lords.

"Well we didnae get dressed up for nothing."

Alaine glanced at Hammish, rolling her eyes. It was just like him to offer a quip at a time like this.

With a grunt Alaine dismounted, pulling her sword out of her way. She reached over the saddle and tugged at the ties that held her shield to her saddle. She slung the straps up her arm and secured the shield. Reaching out she slapped the rump of her horse sending it galloping off of the battle field. Hammish, Da, and Stephen was following suit, dismounting, gathering their things, and sending their horses away.

William caught up with the Scottish lords as they reached the English soldiers. Alaine watched them, trying to gauge what was being said. The men were too far away for her to see their faces but she could tell from the way William was riding in circles around the English commander he was agitating them.

A priest in a long dark robe walked in front of Alaine. He casted holy water on to her with a flick of his fingers and mumbled a few words in Latin. Alaine bowed her head and made her peace with God. The Campbells had never been a family much for religion but her ma had made sure they knew their prayers. She could not come up with a single word of those prayers now. Alaine closed her eyes and thought a few words, asking for strength not only for the battle but what was to follow after.

Alaine's prayers were interrupted by William returning. He dismounted, sending his horse off of the field. He assumed his place in the line and knelt to one knee as the priest approached him. Alaine and the others followed suit. The priest mumbled more Latin words over their bowed heads. Alaine wasn't quite sure in this plan of William's but she figured they could take all the luck they could get.

She raised her head and caught sight of Stephen out of the corner of her eye. His head was raised to sky as if he was conversing with his Almighty Father but he remained silent. Whatever he was saying was strictly between him and God.

With a sudden wild scream William arose, lifted his arms into the air, lofting his sword and shield about his head. The rest of the army followed suit. Some yelled insults and hurled curses. Others just let loose primal screams.

Alaine raised her sword, turning it so the flat of it was facing her. She brought her shield to rest in front of her body and began beating her sword against the steel cap on her shield. The resulting sound rang out true and clear. The man behind her began to do the same and soon the entire army was pounding their weapons against their shields, against the ground.

One man broke through the ranks, going to stand in front of the lines. He lifted his kilt, exposing himself to the English, and began wiggling his hips, taunting the enemy soldiers. Hammish glanced at Alaine, while she was a warrior, she was still his younger sister and he was unsure of her reaction to the man's display.

Alaine caught his eye and shrugged. "I've seen bigger."

Suddenly the entire front line had cast down their weapons, gripped the edges of their kilts and raised them high.

Alaine stood stock still, her kilt still modestly around her hips. She fought with her instincts, trying not to peek at William. 'Just one little look wouldnae hurt,' she reasoned. The other part of her fought back. If she were to see William in all of his glory then it would be under much more private circumstances.

"Get an eye full lass?" A man called to Alaine from the back. "If not, I can always give you an eye full." His comments were met with snickers and jeers from the men around him.

Alaine kept her eyes forward but a slight blush crossed her cheeks.

The English lines parted, allowing their archers to come forward. The prepped their arrows, drew back and then let loose. The Scottish craned their necks, watching the arrows course through the air.

Alaine bent down bringing her shield up. The rest did the same, some scrambling for their shields. The arrows thunked into shield and flesh alike. The screams of the wounded and dying filled the air. Alaine glanced around, checking to see if those surrounding her had been hit.

All most as soon as it had started the rain of arrows stopped. Most had not found their mark, thudding into shields or harmlessly into the ground. Almost as one they dropped their weapons, turned and lifted their kilts to moon the English.

This time Alaine followed suit and bared her arse with the rest of the men. Several men craned their necks, trying to get a glimpse of what she kept hidden under her skirt. She flipped her kilt down and turned, all in one smooth motion, to grasp her shield. Another hail of arrows rained down on them. This time the Scotts were not as well prepared and more arrows found their mark.

William stood up and turned to his left. "Ride!" he yelled, waving his arms at the nobles. At once they turned and rode away from the battlefield.

Sudden movement from the English army distracted the Scottish. The archers were moving, shifting, making way for the heavy horsemen to ride through. At a call from the English general the horsemen started trotting towards the Scottish, slowly at first but gaining speed as they came farther and farther.

"Hold!" William called. "Hold! Hold!"

Alaine's brow beaded with sweat. Her hands became clammy, her stomach churned and her heart began to beat faster than she ever imagined it could. Her whole body became taunt with waiting.

The ground began to shake violently under their feet. The horsemen approached quickly. They flowed over a small rise in the field and were almost upon them.

"Now!" came William's call.

They bent down and picked up the wooden stakes that had been lying there. The horses and their riders were impaled upon the lances. The crash was terrible, men and horses screaming, gory flying through the air.

Alaine dodged a dying horse, pulling her sword free from its sheath. She side stepped and falling man and brought her sword up to meet the blow of an English soldier. She parried and twisted, casting his sword to the side. This left his body open allowing Alaine to turn, bringing her sword around and cutting into his side. The man tossed back his head and screamed. His blood flowed from his body and down the length of Alaine's sword. She wrenched it free and turned to face her next foe.

The Scotts turned and charged at the English. A wild, terrible scream ripped itself from Alaine's throat. Her vision was tainted red and she could see nothing but the enemy in front of her. The blood lust was upon her.

Time slowed and became nothing more than an endless series of chops, parries and thrusts. At some point the grip of Alaine's sword became so soaked with blood she lost it. She unsheathed her axe, not missing a beat, turning and hacking at the man behind her.

The ground was soon soaked with blood and covered with a mess of entrails, the dying and the wounded. Alaine had been sparring with an English soldier, deflecting his blows with the handle of his axe. Suddenly her foot flew out from under her; she had tripped over the arm of a dead man. She went down painful onto one knee, wrenching her muscles. The soldier grinned and thrust his sword at her.

At first Alaine thought he had missed but a sudden searing pain ripped through her arm. She let loose a scream and arched her body in pain. The axe slipped from her fingers. She stared, her eyes open as the soldier's head flew backward and a hand reached around, slitting his throat. The English soldier dropped to the ground, a surprised look forever etched on his face. Stephen stood behind him, panting, his hair matted with blood.

Alaine gasped as another spasm of pain overtook her and she knew nothing more but darkness.

o0o

Well there you go; another chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it.

Please leave me a nice review

Love, Ginger


	19. Chapter 18

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

I had so much fun writing this chapter. I hope you all enjoy reading

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, much love! And special thanks to Govener Fink for making my day

Part XVIII

The sword had pierced Alaine's flesh right below her collar bone. It had missed her heart and she would survive but it hurt like a bitch. She had regained consciousness after it had been cleaned and cauterized on the side of the field. She would have live with a bandage covering her shoulder and constricting her movements for a few weeks; and she would have a scar there for the rest of her life. All in all, she had been extraordinarily lucky. A inch or two lower and she would have never awoken….

o0o

"You donnae know how to embroider?" Lady Lochlan's serving woman stared at Alaine in shock. Alaine casted about for the woman's name but she had been introduced to so many people in the last two days it was impossible to remember them all.

"What about music? Can yee play? Or dancing?" The woman inquired further.

Lady Lochlan leaned forward. "Peace Eithne. Let Lady Alaine rest. She has chosen a different path from ours, one quite beyond our understanding." She ended this with a little sniff and shot a reproachful look at Alaine.

Alaine blushed and fixed her eyes upon the square of coarse linen the women had given her to practice her embroidery on. She had managed a few clumsy stitches and the linen was only marginally spotted with blood from her pricked fingers. It would have been a struggle for her to sew with two hands let along one bound up in bandages.

"With your permission, Lady Alaine, my ladies and I will withdraw and leave you to rest."

Alaine glanced up at Lady Lochlan and nodded, managing a weak smile. She watched as the women gathered their sewing things and quietly left the room.

Finally! Alaine thought they were never going to leave. The ladies had sat there sewing for hours upon end and had only wanted to talk about people Alaine was unfamiliar with and who they were sleeping with, who were also people Alaine did not know.

At one point the conversation had turned to William Wallace and his army of dirty but brave men. The ladies had giggled and twittered about William and his blues eyes. Alaine bristled at this. She could not imagine William actually paying mind to one of these simpering creatures.

The dreadful Eithne had turned to Alaine and had asked "What is he like? Is he as powerful as they say?" Alaine rushed to assure the girl William was more than powerful, he had a strong arm and was a more than capable swordsman. When the women began to snicker at her, Alaine felt like she had fell into some trap. Then it dawned on her what Eithne had meant and she bent her head, blushing furiously. Lady Lochlan had scolded Eithne who protested that any woman who rode with the men must ride them as well, for why else would they keep such an unwomanly woman about them.

Alaine sighed and dropped her linen square onto the basket sitting next to her chair. She stood and rolled her shoulders trying to loosen the stiffness that had gathered while she was sitting. The bandages prevented her from doing more to regain the feeling in her arm.

William and his most closest had been invited to Castle Craig at the behest of the nobles. William was to be knighted upon the marrow. Hammish, Stephen and her father were all to be rewarded as well. Alaine would not be recognized by them as she was a woman and had no place in such going-ons as Lady Lochlan pointed out to Lady Craig.

The last few days had been a flurry of activity. Alaine had been separated from the men almost immediately upon arrival. She had been stripped of her armor and given a bath. Her skin had been scrubbed so hard that she was sure she would have none left. Her hair was lathered with a foul smelling concoction and was abused by a stout woman wielding a bone comb. Her scrapes and cuts had been tended to. The wound by her shoulder had been cleaned properly and rebandaged every day with fresh cloth.

With her hair clean and shinning and her cheeks scrubbed pink, Alaine was dressed in small clothes, a under dress, tunic and kirtle. Her legs were clad in knee high stockings that were itchy and far too warm. She was provided with a pair of slippers that would have been little protection should she leave the castle.

Since her transformation, Alaine had only glimpsed the men at the grand dinners the nobles had every night. She was seated far down the tables from them among the lesser ladies. Hammish was too caught up in the feasting to pay her much mind, but William and her da always nodded towards her, offering smiles of encouragement.

A pair of blues eyes often watched her during the dinners but without her noticing. He noted the changes Alaine had gone through and the unhappiness that seemed to hover around her eyes. While he was concerned and ill pleased about Alaine's unhappiness, she was a warrior and would eventually find her spirit back and set things the way she wanted with the women.

There was no time for conversation with William or the rest. Alaine was hustled from solarium to solarium and was plied with an endless supply of coarse linen. When she protested about this, Lady Craig and Lochlan had smiled indulgently and told her there was no room for her in the "dealings of the men."

Alaine could not wait until the morrow when William would be knighted and hopefully they could leave this blasted place.

o0o

Alaine was woken before the first rays of light had shown over the hills. She scrubbed clean again and her hair was brushed until it shone and Alaine thought her scalp would fall off. Her wound was cleaned again and bandaged so that she may be dressed properly. She was dressed in a dark green under dress. Gold embroidery showed around the edges of her sleeves and around the neck of the gown. Over this went a lighter, almost mint green, kirtle. The kirtle was gathered at Alaine's right hip to better expose the embroidery on her under gown. The serving woman presented Alaine with her mother's thistle brooch and had her secure her kirtle with it. Over this a belt tooled with a little gold filigree went. It hung low on Alaine's hips, emphasizing her trim waist and curvy hips. The hair at the sides of her temple were drawn back and braided. Gold colored ribbon was woven into the braids.

Alaine was presented with a polished copper mirror. She surveyed the strange woman would stared at her, wide eyed, from the mirror. She reached up and stroked her cheek with a finger. Maybe, just maybe, she would do.

The arrival of Lady Lochlan and Lady Craig broke through Alaine's reverie. They were dressed in similar outfits to Alaine's but which were made of finer cloth and contained more elaborate embroidery. They looked Alaine up and down. Lady Craig reached forward and adjusted the folds of Alaine's kirtle. "You will do," pronounced Lady Lochlan with a nod.

o0o

"The Lady Alaine Campbell."

Alaine blushed at hearing her name announced. She cast her eyes down at the floor as she waited for the heavy doors to open and grant her entrance into the hall.

'Why are yee looking down? Yee have nothing to be ashamed of.' The thought idly crossed Alaine's mind. Her eyes widened. She was Alaine Campbell, daughter of Hammish Campbell of one of William Wallace's most trusted. She indeed had nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps she did not act like the noble ladies, but she was not noble herself. She was a warrior first and she was going to act like it.

Alaine straightened her back and lifted her head. Her eyes snapped with mischief. Eithne would have a fit if she could hear Alaine's thoughts. She squared her shoulders and set her chin high and prepared to make her entrance.

The doors swung open revealing a packed room. Men pressed in from every side. All heads were turned towards her.

A small smile formed on Alaine's lips as she saw the look in William's eyes. His eyes opened wide at the sight of her. A look of astonishment and appreciation crossed his face. He smiled at her, bowing his head slightly.

Her father was beaming proudly at her. Hammish, her brother, offered her his easy grin and a sarcastic eye roll.

Alaine glanced at Stephen. She saw something in his face she could not identify but it made her redden and glance away.

Carefully she descended the stairs and came to stand behind the men. The men turned to face forward with William standing slightly in front. He kneeled, his head held high.

"I knight thee Sir William Wallace…."

o0o

The sight of Alaine entering the hall made up his mind.He would make her his.

Well here you go. I hope you all enjoyed it. I know I took some liberties with the time period, no one back then would have been bathed that much, but it just seemed to fit.

Please review

Much love, Ginger 3


	20. Chapter 19

Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything connected with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creation and the so-called plot to this story is the product of my wildest fantasies.

Hey, sorry about the delay in posting but its crunch time at school and things have been hectic. I have decided that I need a beta reader. If you are interested in working with me, feel free to send me a private message on here with a little bit about yourself and a short sample of your work

Thanks to everyone who leaves reviews and to everyone who is reading this. Special shout outs go to:

Gaia'schild: First off, I love your name. Second, I am in total agreement with you about Stephen.

Ginger Locks: Yay another ginger in the crowd! And thanks so much, I'm really glad you're enjoying Alaine and her story.

Twilitefan: Thanks so much

Also I cannot believe I'm almost up to twenty chapters with this….

Part XIX

Alaine groaned softly and rolled onto her side. Her entire body ached. Her feet were sore. The muscles in her legs tingled after griping the sides of her horse for so long. Rocks kept digging into her back making it impossible to sleep.

It was not any more comfortable on her side. Instead of her back, now the rocks dug into her hip. With a frustrated sigh Alaine flipped back her blankets and sat up. Around her William's men slept. It had been tough the last few weeks. William had the idea of striking back at the English on their own land and so the Scots had marched south towards York.

The battle at York had been long, messy and ultimately successful for the Scots. Once again Alaine whispered prayers to whoever was listening for bringing those near and dear to her through the battle. The sights and sounds of the battle filled Alaine's head whenever she closed her eyes. Just another reason to add to the list as to why she could not sleep.

Alaine rose slowly, careful not to make any noise. She grabbed the top most blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders as protection from the chill of the night. With slow, soft steps she made her way past sleeping forms and towards the dying embers of that night's fire.

She settled herself near the fire, her fingers grasping an errant stick with which to prod the fire back into life.

"Cannae sleep?"

The voice startled Alaine, coming from the shadows on the other side of the fire.

Alaine looked up, the sudden spark of flame blinding her for a moment. Finally she could make out the soft smile on Stephen's face as he leaned into the light.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked softly.

Alaine nodded. "My body is too tired to sleep and…" she trailed off.

Stephen flashed her a questioning look. "And?"

"And nothing." She would not admit to having nightmares.

Stephen nodded knowingly and thankfully fell silent.

They sat there companionably quiet, starring into the fire. Alaine watched the play of light across his face when she thought he was not looking.

"Tell me about your home," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Tell me about Ireland." Alaine moved closer to the fire, moving to hear him better.

Stephen glanced up at her, surprised by her sudden interest. A grin split his face and a twinkle filled her eye.

"Well it is just like Scotland, but better of course," he teased.

Alaine chuckled and rolled her eyes a bit. "Seriously, what is it like?"

Stephen's voice grew softer, his eyes distant. "Rolling green hills as far as the eyes can see. There are more sheep than men it seems like. They feed on huge fields of clover. That is what I miss the most, the smell of fresh clover. There is nothing quite like it. So rich and earthy, fresh, clean." He paused for a moment. "Pure."

"There are huge crags, older than man. Some say they were once giants who fell asleep for so long that they turned to stone. Lakes and streams are filled with the purest water. If you were to look you could see all the way to the bottom with no trouble at all. The mists creep in every night. They swallow the land whole. Waking every morning to find the world wrapped in gray…." Stephen trailed off.

They were silent for a moment, Stephen lost in his memories and Alaine studying his face intently. This was a whole new side of the Mad Irishman. A side that she was coming to tolerate, even like.

"Tell me about your family. Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"Aye. There are enough of us to be considered our own tribe," Stephen said with pride and a smile. "My dear sweet mother Deirdre raised all us with a quick hand and a long spoon. Seven boys and three girls there are. I am the third eldest. Padrick, the eldest, is following Da and taking over the croft. Marie is married with her own brood. After me are the twins Cormand and Dermont. Then Adara and Keira. Connor, Declan and Baby Liam follow."

"That is quite the family you have there Irishman. You must miss them." Alaine meant it as a question more than a simple comment.

"Ach, they are all as mad as me, if not madder and there is not room enough for all of us on my island. It is mah turn to venture and see what awaits me. My brothers are keeping my island for me while I am gone."

Just as she thought he was capable of being serious, Stephen reminded her why they called him the Mad Irishman. Alaine shook her head and stood up. "Thank you for answering my questions Irishman. You have bored me more than enough to send me to sleep." She tried to keep her voice flat but a teasing tone snuck in at the end.

Stephen threw back his head and gawffed. There was some humour in her yet.

Stung by his laughter, Alaine turned and stalked off to her bed roll. She flopped down and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

Thoughts of misty mornings and green hills filled her thoughts as she drifted off to sleep…

* * *

Well there ya go! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Leave me some love ; )

Love, Ginger


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